


quite keen on silviculture

by thesaddestboner



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Character Turned Into a Tree, Crack Treated Seriously, M/M, Minnesota Wild, Nashville Predators, Plot Holes Large Enough to Drive a Semi Through, magical transformation
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-07-06
Updated: 2015-07-06
Packaged: 2018-04-07 22:01:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,474
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4279485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thesaddestboner/pseuds/thesaddestboner
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Weird things always happen to Ryan in Nashville.</i>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	quite keen on silviculture

**Author's Note:**

  * For [bestliars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/gifts).



> Thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/profile)[**bessyboo**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bessyboo/) for letting me bounce some ideas off her on twitter, and thanks to [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/thehandsoftime/profile)[**thehandsoftime**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/thehandsoftime/) for okaying me to post this even though it was late.
> 
> Sorry this is so weird and random, [](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/profile)[**bestliars**](http://www.archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/), but once the idea grabbed hold of me it wouldn't let go.
> 
> (Also, I know I kind of dropped the thread about Roman turning into a sheep but I couldn't quite fit an explanation in there without making this, like, 1000 words longer and even more ridiculous than it already is.)
> 
> You can find me on [twitter](http://twitter.com/thesaddestboner) and [tumblr](http://saddestboner.tumblr.com).

"I was quite keen on silviculture, the growing of trees, and that was something I gave a lot of thought to." — Ian Anderson

When it happens, they're in Nashville for the second leg of a home-and-home. 

(Of course it would be Nashville. Weird things always happen to Ryan in Nashville.)

Zach’s in the bathroom flossing before bed, and Ryan’s putting out a suit, dress shirt, and tie for tomorrow when he hears the sound of plastic skittering across the tile. Ryan looks up at the sudden, sharp sound, every muscle in his body tightening. He vaults over his luggage for the bathroom, half expecting to see Zach laid out on the floor. Ryan's pretty sure Zach didn't suffer a concussion in their last game or anything, but he's already pulling his phone out of his pocket to phone the team doctor as he skids to a stop in the doorway.

Zach is gone. Ryan can’t see anything else but that. Zach is _gone_.

The floss is lying on the bathroom tile, unspooled, the white plastic shell cracked. Ryan stoops down to pick it up with a shaking hand and that’s when he knocks his head against the hard, rough bark of a—tree trunk.

Ryan stumbles back, holding a hand to his forehead, and squints. He hadn’t noticed the tree when he inspected their room after they checked in. And he certainly hadn’t noticed it when he was fraught with panic over Zach’s unexplained disappearance. But weird things _always_ happen to him in Nashville. A magically appearing tree shouldn’t be any different.

Ryan’s knees buckle then and he reaches out to steady himself, his palm finding rough bark. The tree shakes its branches, a few leaves fluttering to the tiled floor. One of them lands softly on Ryan's bare foot and, for a moment, he almost thinks the tree did it on purpose. But of course the tree didn't do it on purpose. It's a fucking tree.

Ryan notices the shreds of red-and-green plaid cloth tangled in some of the tree's thick, massive roots. Plaid cloth that looks an awful lot like Zach's pajamas. There's no sight of him though. Ryan leans heavily against the tree and closes his eyes, sighing, rubbing his thumbs against his temples.

The tree pats one of its branches between Ryan's shoulder blades and he leaps a foot into the air, just narrowly missing braining himself on a low branch. The floss goes flying across the room. The tree shakes, more leaves fluttering down, blanketing the bathroom tile. Ryan’s beginning to think it's laughing at him.

Ryan is way too sensible for the strange shit that happens to him when he comes back to Nashville, and he's trying so very hard not to let his imagination run away with him but he's starting to think maybe this tree is _Zach_.

"Zach, if that's you in there somewhere, uh..." Ryan trails off. He's really not sure what to say (and he doesn't even know if Zach can hear him; he probably doesn't have ears, being that he's a tree and all). He's never had a significant other turn into a tree before. 

This is, hands down, the dumbest thing he's ever done. Talking to a tree. Maybe _he's_ the one who needs the concussion test.

"I'm going to get help?" Ryan phrases it more like a question. He really, really hopes he can get help. He doesn't want to think of Zach stuck like this, unable to play hockey or be held or kissed or—

Ryan shakes his head to clear out the unwelcome thoughts.

Leaves rustle together in a hushed whisper, and branches bend. 

"I... I love you," he adds.

He grabs his cell phone and his wallet and heads out into the starless Nashville evening.

-

Ryan stops in front of Shea's dark, looming mansion and pockets his cell phone. He whirls around on his heel; the taxi's red tail lights fade into the distance. This was probably a stupid idea, coming to Shea for help, but Shea might be the only person who _can_ help him right now.

Ryan waits patiently at the gate to be buzzed in. The night air is cool and damp and heavy, settling into his bones like a long shift. The intercom crackles to life and Ryan stares at it, waiting, his heart thundering in his chest.

"The gate's unlocked," Shea mutters, sounding vaguely annoyed and fuzzy with sleep. "Just let yourself in." He pauses. "And leave your shoes at the door. Don't want you tracking mud all over the place."

Ryan laughs, in spite of himself, and pushes the gate open. 

Shea's standing at the top of the staircase when Ryan slips in through the unlocked front door and shuts it gently behind him. He's wearing a deep blue bathrobe with gold piping. He looks like a king surveying his subjects from high atop his throne.

"So... What's this about your boyfriend turning into a tree," Shea says, descending down the stairs, and Ryan can tell from the tone of his voice that he's just indulging an old friend. He doesn't believe him.

"I—I don't know how it happened, or why. But I'm one-hundred percent sure the tree that took root in my hotel bathroom is Zach," Ryan says. He's starting to feel lightheaded. If Shea doesn't believe him he doesn't know what he's going to do.

"You think I can help?" Shea says slowly, like he thinks Ryan took a hit to the head or something. Ryan can see the beginnings of a smirk tugging at the corner of his mouth. 

Ryan grits his teeth and clenches his phone in his fist in his pants pocket. 

"No one else would believe me," Ryan says.

Shea does laugh then, and rubs a hand through his stupid spiky hair. "You do know it's, like, two in the morning, right?"

"Yes," Ryan says, through his teeth. "What's your point?"

"You can't run to me every time you and Zach have a problem—"

"That's not what this is!" Ryan might be whining now. He doesn't care. He left his dignity with the tree masquerading as his boyfriend—or is it the other way around—in his hotel bathroom.

"Ryan." Shea interrupts with a weary sigh, lifting a hand. "I can't keep doing this with you. I want off the merry-go-round."

"That's a shitty metaphor," Ryan snarks, seizing on the thread and tugging. "Merry-go-rounds go in circles. We're more like a roller coaster."

Shea sighs and rubs his thumb hard between his eyes. "Get out of my foyer and go back to your boyfriend."

"Please, Shea. I really need your help. You've got to believe me."

He must sound desperate enough or something because Shea really looks at him then, like he's seeing him for the first time. Like he might just believe him.

"All right." Shea sighs and tosses a glance over his shoulder toward the staircase. He turns back to Ryan and regards him coolly. "I'm not going back with you to your hotel." Shea holds up his hands to halt the protests that are forming on Ryan's tongue. "But I know someone who can help."

-

Shea sends him to Pekka Rinne, because of _course_ he does. Of _course_ a goalie would know all about magical transformations, or whatever the hell happened to Zach. Ryan thinks, as he waits for Pekka to answer his door, that there’s probably a section in the goalie handbook about magical transformations. 

Pekka doesn’t even seem all that surprised to see Ryan, which should probably be alarming, but at this point he doesn’t even care anymore. He really wants Zach— _his_ Zach—back. 

Pekka stands in his doorway and tugs his robe tightly around his body. He blinks his eyes and rubs the sleep-grit out of them with his thumb. 

“Pekks, I need your help,” Ryan blurts out before Pekka can get a word in. “Zach turned into a tree and Shea says you can help fix it.”

“You are here because Zach turned into a tree,” Pekka says slowly, raising an eyebrow. “You’re serious?”

“Yes,” Ryan says. “I know it seems a little out there, but—”

“Shut up and get inside.” Pekka grabs Ryan by the arm, tugs him into his house, and shuts the door behind them. “It’s happened before?”

Ryan allows himself to be led into the kitchen, where Pekka grabs a coffee mug from the cupboard over the sink and fills it with tap water. 

“No. I was putting my stuff away and I heard a noise, so I went to check it out and Zach was…” Ryan trails off, taking the water from Pekka. He’s grateful to have something to occupy his hands because he’d probably be tearing out his hair otherwise. Or maybe he’d be punching a wall, which would be pretty irresponsible of him.

“You know this happened to Shea,” Pekka says. Ryan’s head snaps up at that. “Webs and Jose were fighting about something dumb and then Jose turned into sheep for six weeks.”

“A sheep. For six weeks,” Ryan says, putting the mug down and sweeping his hands over his face. He presses his thumb into his eye to stave off the ache that’s beginning to throb there. “How did you guys fix it?”

“Well, it’s important you know why it happened in first place,” Pekka says. “Did you and Zach fight?”

“We never fight,” Ryan says resolutely.

“That must be a lie or you wouldn’t be here, waking me up, dragging me out of my bed in the middle of the night.” Pekka gives Ryan a pointed look.

“Okay, fine, we argued a little but it was nothing.”

“It’s not nothing. You need something of Zach’s. A charm or token,” Pekka says, gentling his tone. “Something important to both of you.”

Ryan’s mind immediately flashes to their silver medals—he instinctively bristles because they should have won gold, but that’s not important!—before he remembers their medals are sitting in a glass case back home in Minnesota.

“I’ve got something,” Ryan says.

“Then you’re good. You just have to both be touching it when clock strikes midnight and you’ll be okay,” Pekka says.

Ryan furrows his brow. “Wait. If it’s that easy, why’d it take Webs and Jose six weeks to figure their shit out?”

Pekka shrugs. “They’re both pretty stubborn. And have you ever tried to get a sheep to do as he’s told? It’s not as easy as you’d think.”

-

When Ryan gets back to the hotel room, Zach is still in the bathroom. Still a tree. One of Zach’s branches catches in Ryan’s unkempt hair and he disentangles himself carefully. He doesn't want to accidentally snap off a twig or something. He has no idea how he'd explain that injury to the coaching staff.

The floor is blanketed in leaves now and Ryan gets down on his hands and knees, sifting through them. His fingers touch something hard and plastic, and he pulls out the spool of floss. Ryan rips a length of thread free, tying one end around his finger and the other around one of the tree’s—Zach’s—branches. He has no idea if this will even work, but he can’t even _touch_ the very real possibility that it might not. He can’t let himself go there.

Ryan closes his eyes and leans his head against the thick, sturdy tree trunk. He doesn’t have anything better than this. They never exchanged rings or mementos of affection or anything like that. Right now, Ryan wishes they had. 

Ryan had liked to think they were secure in their love, in what they’d built with—and for—each other. Ryan had liked to think they didn’t need to exchange gifts or tokens to know that they loved each other. 

He glances at his watch. **11:55 PM**.

Ryan settles in against Zach’s trunk for a long, sleepless night, but he’s out like a light soon after.

-

When Ryan opens his eyes, he’s in bed, dental floss wrapped tightly around his finger. He sits up with a jolt and glances around. His watch reads **6:45 AM**.

Ryan leaps out of bed and heads for the bathroom. The bathroom floor is blanketed in leaves, but the tree is gone. He’s completely alone. Ryan spins around, searching, his heart thumping wildly in his chest now, fingers going numb and tingly. 

“Zach? Zach!” It’s hard for him to breathe, swallow, think. He feels like he’s underwater, every movement weighty and oppressive. His thoughts are a tangled mess of _Zach_ , _gone_ , _alone_.

If he doesn’t find him soon, he’s going to—

Then the door opens and shuts with a gentle click. Slow, cautious footsteps shuffle on the carpet. 

Ryan comes to a stop, and the room stops spinning around him. Zach’s in the doorway, a rolled up newspaper tucked under his arm. There’s a piece of floss tied around his index finger.

“Ryan?” Zach puts the newspaper down and comes to Ryan, touching the center of his chest. “Are you all right? You were asleep, I didn’t wanna disturb you. You looked like you’d had a rough night.”

Ryan doesn’t say anything to that. He just crosses the room in three big strides and throws his arms around Zach. He pulls him against his chest in a big hug. They’re going to need the Jaws of Life to pry Ryan away from Zach after this.

“Do—do you remember? About what happened,” Ryan asks articulately.

“Uh,” Zach says. “Not really? One minute I was flossing and the next, I was in bed. Covered in tree sap. What happened?”

Ryan laughs into his neck. “It’s a long story. I don’t know if you’d believe me.”

“Try me,” Zach says. 

Zach’s hands are warm on Ryan’s back. He can feel their strength. For a moment there, Ryan really did think he’d never have Zach in his arms again. He’d never feel Zach’s breath on his neck or his fingers in his hair. 

He touches Zach’s cheek and then tangles a hand in his hair, just sifts his fingers through it. It’s nice, Zach’s hair. Thick, dark brown, soft against his fingers. Ryan wishes he’d taken the time before to appreciate it more.

“I’m glad you’re here.” Ryan holds Zach at arm’s length to take him in.

“You’re being weird,” Zach says, but he smiles.

“I know. I’m weird about you.” Ryan pulls him close again and kisses him, cupping his jaw gently in his hand. He feels Zach’s mouth moving against his lips into another smile. Ryan presses a kiss to that smile. 

“I’m weird about you too,” Zach says. “Now, tell me this story of yours.”

As Zach takes his hand and leads him to the bed, Ryan thinks that he doesn’t mind when weird things happen to him in Nashville.

**Author's Note:**

> The author of this piece intends no insult, slander, or copyright infringement, and is not profiting from this work. This story is a complete work of fiction and does not necessarily reflect on the nature of the individuals featured. This is for entertainment purposes only. If you found this story while Googling your name or the names of your friends, hit the back button now.

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [a tree by any other name](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10552466) by [bestliars](https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestliars/pseuds/bestliars)




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